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 Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 1:11 am
A study date with Morgan was probably the first step Zia was taking as far as getting back to real life after her 'camping trip', finally venturing out of the dim lighting of her bedroom where she'd spent the last few days sleeping and drinking and being generally hungover and miserable while wallowing in her own self loathing and regrets.
Normally, she prepared for these meetings with meticulously filed class notes and old essays while dressed in her very best ensemble. She always put extra effort into her looks before meeting up with Morgan, feeling a heightened urge to outdo whatever she might be wearing, or just flaunt something new or how she could accent her legs better. But today she wasn't even really trying. A tank top, capris, flip flops, and tangled curls clipped back and out of the way was how she decided to reenter the world, with her overpriced sunglasses covering half her face to ease up on the shock of light on her migraine. Yup, today, outshining Morgan and her looks was unusually low on Zia's priorities list. She would have just forfeit today.
"Late again," She muttered to herself, hunched over a table in the little cafe and clenching her usual latte with one hand and impatiently drumming her fingers on the file she had in front of her full of the papers she brought along, wondering if she really cared today. She had a confusing combination of dreading and looking forward to some human interaction, but mostly she was just annoyed because now her unpleasant mood had found something to be annoyed at, even if she'd come to just expect Morgan to show up late to the point she didn't usually bother with catty commentary or snobbery for such minor offenses. And now she was pondering a passive way of saying 'HELLO, YOU ARE LATE, AND I AM ANNOYED.' to spit out when she arrived.
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 10:58 am
It was another fifteen minutes before Morgan showed up. When she came into view, she wasn’t alone. The violet-redhead was hanging off the arms of a strapping young man, who was carrying her books. Giggling and fawning over the man, she leaned in and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. The man smiled and returned the small stack of books to Morgan. The pair broke off; Morgan waved him away with an air kiss. When she turned around, she noticed Zia a few meters away, standing by the door to the quaint campus coffee shop. Morgan waved at her pale-haired friend too. Zia was her friend in the loosest sense of the word. They had been studying together ever since Morgan started at Shlip and needed some extra help understanding her business classes; a professor had offered her Zia’s e-mail. Over the last few semesters, what started out as innocent study-buddies turned into a competitive rivalry. Each girl tried to out do the other in terms of beauty and wit. Almost every time they saw each other, Morgan would be ready to exchange banter and criticize Zia’s wardrobe choices. Morgan always made sure to be dressed to the nines when she had a ‘date’ with Zia. Today was no exception. Morgan’s violet-red hair was lightly curled and held into place with a thin black headband. An off the shoulder black top and skintight black skinny jeans made up the rest of her outfit. She looked a bit like Olivia Newton-John in Grease. Today Morgan was going retro. “Sorry I’m late. Joshua just had to show me the blossoming cherry blossoms. We had a picnic; he took my photograph, it was very Japonisme. “Morgan called out as she approached Zia, putting extra emphasis on the –ua of the man’s name. When she got closer, her face fell flat. “Zia… you look… nice today.” No, Zia looked atrocious. Morgan faintly smiled at her. Clearly, she had won today, but there was no fun in winning when the competitor didn’t try.
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Posted: Wed May 04, 2011 8:01 pm
Zia's eyes were on Morgan the second she stepped into the vicinity. Even in her current state of mind, she still managed to focus right onto the boy she'd parted ways with seconds before with instant holier-than-thou judgment.
"Lovely," Was the curt response. Short, boring, no comment about where she must've picked him up played off as cheerful ribbing. Banter seemed to barely form in her brain and still in her throat before it could escape, and the result was lackluster.
"So, I should be finishing up my last class at shlip soon. I think these are the resources you're gonna need for finals season," She mumbled, flipping through the used pages with factoids in her frantic handwriting printed on every line and margin and highlighted in an entire rainbow of colors as she tried to ignore the stilted "you look nice", reminding her that she left the house in the questionable ensemble.
She had gone from not caring to slight regret just from Morgan's presence. She couldn't even bring herself to concede a remark about her opponent's clothes, positive, sarcastic, or otherwise.
Rubbing her eyes as the throbbing from the lighting started to become unbearable, her knee jerk reaction was to reach for her sunglasses and pull them down to her nose, only to remember it would look silly to cover her eyes indoors.
"Um..."
She flipped some pages back and forth, brow furrowing as if she had something to say and lost her train of thought, the concern of alleviating her headache worming it's way into her brain. A coffee shop didn't serve the kind of remedy she wanted. "How long do you think this'll last?"
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Posted: Mon May 09, 2011 3:33 pm
“Mmmmmm. Lovely indeed.” Morgan’s eyes darted back to the place she had just appeared from; lovely described the sweet nothings that she had whispered to Joshua but not their earlier actions. She gently bit her lip, considering running back around that corner to continue her ‘lovely’ rendezvous. Zia pulled her back into reality. Finals? Last class?
Cocking her head to the side, Morgan watched Zia flip through her color-coded notes and texts. Tentatively, she reached out to take them. “Thank you, Zia. These look great.”
Before tucking her entire stack of books into her large tote bag, Morgan scanned the pages she was borrowing. The notes were rough and looked like chicken scratch, not the thorough and easy to read notes she was used to seeing.
Morgan’s amber eyes were locked onto Zia, examining her like a painting. Careless attire, lackluster eyes and no make-up? Something was definitely amiss. This was not the Zia that Morgan knew. “Last? Oh honey, I don’t think you’ll last long as you are.”
A hand dove her canvas tote bag, rummaging around for something. Morgan was always quick to guess a person’s problem, though she didn’t really bother to ask about it. She naturally just assumed school stress, boy troubles maybe. But with Zia? Probably school. Her hand fished out a small shiny silver flask, which Morgan covertly showed Zia. “ Need a hair of the dog that bit you? It’ll make you feel better.”
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Posted: Mon May 09, 2011 8:27 pm
Hair of the dog echoed in her brain so clearly, she needed a moment to see if Morgan had actually said that or she just wished it hard enough she made it up.
Then she caught a glimpse of the silver flask and glanced over her shoulder to make sure the barista was distracted enough to not b***h about it, but otherwise, Zia was pretty brazen about not keeping it too hidden. But then again, she was twenty-two and liquor didn't hold that forbidden mystique that encouraged sneaking anymore.
Dumping it into what was left of her coffee, she handed it back to Morgan under the table with a silent promise to pay her back for that, and went to chugging, stopping to feel warmth in her chest and wait for relief.
"Ah, yeah, I'm not going to last," She said, perking up at the mere thought of the throbbing head pain being dulled. "Hey, you've got your ID, right?" She asked, obviously meaning the fake one that made Morgan her same age. "Let's go somewhere fun." Ignoring the fact that she had no idea where would be 'fun'. But Morgan probably did! And the uncertainty was exciting. Enough to make her stop and remember she was without her make up and cringed, suddenly self conscious and full of regret for leaving the house that night. "You don't have any eyeliner in your magic bag too, do you?"
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Posted: Fri May 13, 2011 4:42 pm
Morgan smiled wickedly, as if Zia had to even ask twice.
“My bag is full of many tricks and treats.” Diving a hand back into her canvas tote bag, Morgan began to pull out the items she was looking for. The first thing to come out was a small make-up bag, no bigger than a pencil case, but it was clearly full. Next were a light white silky scarf and a silvery tank top with sequins around the neckline. Accidentally pulled out with those was a pair of pink cotton Hello Kitty panties, which Morgan hastily shoved back into the depths of the bag.
“Always prepared.” Morgan winked slyly. For a girl who was easily caught up in whatever whirlwind came her way, she was certainly well prepared for whatever the day was going to throw at her. “Now we just need to clean you up. “
Morgan ushered Zia to the washroom. It was a small café, so there was only one room with a lock. Morgan shoved Zia inside and handed her the shirt.
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Posted: Wed May 18, 2011 11:16 pm
Zia barely had time to react before she was ushered into the washroom, and then she was suddenly hurrying to undo the apathy that had wreaked havoc on her appearance.
Hair, make up, shirt switch.
The first two were done at a rapid speed, but after shoving her old shirt in her massive purse and looking at herself in the silvery tank top made her second guess her adventurous decision. When was the last time she partied? Probably forever ago. Taking a deep, nervous breath, she fell into a suddenly less apprehensive stride as she put on the scarf, which turned into some quick, last minute preening and self oogling, but about the time she adjusted her bust, she slapped her own hand away, realizing that it was a sudden influence of Zirconia washing over her that she hadn't even noticed.
And then it dawned on her like an addict with an excuse. If she overdid or got in trouble, it wasn't her fault, it was obviously this other personality. It was a free moral pass, at least for self justification, even when blaming it on Zirconia made no sense personality-wise, and even less that they found themselves fluidly in synch. With instantly renewed confidence she strutted her way out of the wash room, ready for whatever Morgan could throw at her.
Holding up the keys to the car she drove here in, she smiled a smile that definitely had some basis in petty revenge and daddy issues, "I brought the car tonight." And even though she usually clung to those keys like they were life itself when Robert Connolly was generous enough to let her touch his shiny, silver Mercedes over her own, less exciting sedan, tonight she really couldn't give a s**t about how much longer it was going to stay in it's pristine shape, and she tossed the keys to Morgan like it was no big deal. "So lead the way to the party, Isabel."
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 12:34 pm
Morgan, or really ‘Isabel’ according to her fake I.D. caught the keys in her hand. Her free hand trailed along, running over the car’s frame as she walked up to the driver’s side. She slid into the driver’s seat, keys in the ignition. The car and the redhead were raring to go. Turning on the radio, Morgan quickly found an acceptable station and turned up the volume. “Ready?”
Morgan was not the best driver; she drove fast and with excitement. She handled the car in somewhat erratic manner, changing lanes and moving in and out of traffic intuitively and with little warning. Yet somehow, the car managed to arrive at their destination in one piece. It pulled up just outside of a little nondescript brick building. It was fairly plain looking, attached to a few retailers and a café. The door was a large metal door, painted bright red.
“Come on Zia.” Morgan left her large tote in the car, opting to keep only a small wallet on her. She hastily put some change into a parking meter and linked arms with Zia, pulling her along. When they reached the door, Morgan tugged at it. It was heavy and took some effort to open. Once they were inside, they found themselves standing in a small foyer with black walls. There was a faint sound of ‘thump thump thump’, the unmistakable beat of dance music.
There was another door with a large muscular man in a black t-shirt standing next it to. “Ladies. I.Ds please.”
Morgan fished out her little wallet and I.D. The name printed on it was Isabel Cohen, age 22 and registered for the state of Virginia. Morgan flashed a smile and a little bit of cleavage. It never hurt to show some skin.
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2011 10:24 pm
Zia was still wavering, especially as Morgan drove. She didn't say anything, but she had clung to the arm rest on the door until she chipped a nail. It was hard to part with her bag, but since it was mostly files and papers it would've been silly to drag it along and she left it in the car, just grabbing the necessities to stuff in her pockets.
“Ladies. I.Ds please.”
Oh god, oh god, what if he noticed Morgan's was a fake? The uneasiness flashed across Zia's face as she fished her wallet out of her back pocket and flashed it, not really having the bravery to supplement it with a little extra skin like Morgan.
The entire thing, right down to the music beat in the headlights just gave Zia a deer in the headlights look.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2011 9:34 pm
The bounce nodded, approving both of their I.Ds. He let the two of them pass, opening the other large door. Beyond the door was little landing, and a large staircase leading down. The music was growing louder and louder.
Morgan smiled at Zia as she lead her down the stairs, out into a dark open space with flashing lights and a crowd of people. “Welcome to the Cellar.” Morgan swept her hand front of her, gesturing to the whole space. The Cellar was the club’s name. The space was mostly open, a large bar was hugging one wall. There were large brick pillars throughout the space and in the back were a bunch of tables and oddly one large couch that was more like a leather bed.
Taking Zia’s hand, she led them both up to the bar and waited for the bartender to turn his attention to the two lovely ladies.
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Posted: Tue May 31, 2011 12:37 am
Zia was practically a starstruck zombie, limply following Morgan where she lead. Looking out across the club space just made her think, once again, that she was out of her element and it was silly to think she could just dive right in and not look like an idiot.
But then they were at the bar and looking over the liquor selection, she found herself eager to take the edge of her awkward nervousness, and snag a little something out of a bottle she spotted behind the counter and kept her eye on.
"Plain Scotch, single malt. I'll take the Glenfarclas," She ordered in her best matter-of-factly tone when the bartender turned to notice them, pointing and laying a credit card down on the bar top. "And uh, whatever she wants?" It came out like a question as she looked at Morgan, wondering if the redhead would take her up on the offer for Zee to foot the bill for tonight, especially when it came to this. She was already ordering an overpriced drink in a place where things were naturally already ridiculous, whatever Morgan wanted probably wouldn't even come close and be a little more inconsequential.
Zia wasn't commonly a drinker, but if there was ever a Connolly child that didn't extensively know their whiskey and tobacco and develop the proper tastes for such, they would've been disowned before even reaching the legal age. So, at least right here at the bar, Zee knew what she wanted with more conviction then anywhere else. And it definitely wasn't a fruity mixed drink.
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Posted: Sun Jun 05, 2011 9:55 pm
When given the choice, Morgan always allowed others to pay for her. Though she had no intention of paying for her own drinks that night anyways, she gladly accepted Zia’s offer. Her eyebrow was raised curiously at Zia, though she smiled. Zia’s gesture was unnecessary, however Morgan thought it was mildly endearing. She pays for her own drinks! How cute. Silly, but cute.
“Gimlet.” Gin, triple sec and lime cordial; it fell into the classier side of fruity cocktails. Then she pointed in and waved a finger towards a large green bottle with a red wax seal on it. Tanqueray gin, not the most expensive gin but worlds better than Bombay Sapphire. Though Morgan had high standards and expensive always meant better, she wasn’t bred into knowing liquor. Her standard was judged by what was pricey yet affordable at the liquor store.
The bartender was prompt in returning with their drinks. “Would you ladies like to start a tab?”
Before Zia could even open her mouth, Morgan replied for her. “No need.” Picking up her drink, Morgan turned around to observe the dance floor. Sipping her drink, her amber eyes scanned the room and the local talent. “Well Zia, what’s the game going to be?”
For Morgan, everything with Zia was a game and a competition. If it wasn’t going to be fashion today, it might as well be dancing, or picking up boys.
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Posted: Tue Jun 07, 2011 11:49 pm
Zia was definitely something between endearingly lost and so pathetic it was painful as to how to conduct herself in this foreign environment, so much so that when Morgan asked that the game was, she glanced off at the dance floor and the crowd on the couch, and didn't even bother mustering up an answer.
She had never gone dancing at a club, she was a horrible flirt, at least under these circumstances. And it was here again she started wondering what the hell she was thinking asking Morgan to take her along, and the fact that her competitive streak was interfering just added a humiliating factor along with it.
"I... don't know," She admitted, grabbing her drink the moment it was set down and uneasily tapping at the sides, inaudible tapping under the pounding beat of the music, but the action was still there.
"That's kind of a manly drink you got there!" A guy waiting on the bartender said next to her, someone she hadn't even noticed until they were trying to talk over the music, and she ended up jumping and leaning away to the point she could've hid behind Morgan right then and there.
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 10:46 pm
Morgan turned to see the man talking to Zia just as the lilac haired girl shied away. A coy, sly smile crept across her face. Was Zia wound up so tight that she couldn’t recognize a man that was trying to chat her up and flirt? It seemed like the game had chosen them! Operation Wingman. The redhead skirted across to man, pulling Zia with her in one hand while the other lightly brushed the man’s arm. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. She’s a little shy in front of an exquisite specimen of man, like yourself. But maybe if you buy us another round she’ll warm up to you.”
Morgan continued to sip on her own drink and urged Zia to do the same. Hopefully it would loosen her up and the real fun could begin.
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 1:16 am
Zia just gave a shy smile and sipped her drink at every encouragement too. Oh god, she didn't know what she doing. Leave the bottle, barkeep. She needed it desperately.
Actually, that bottle was the last thing she clearly remember when her eyes popped open to see an unfamiliar ceiling. "Ugh..." She slowly propped herself up on her elbows, careful not to agitate the noticeable wave of nausea and stabbing head pain any further. Where was she?
She took note of several visual clues until she remembered, vaguely, that his was Morgan's room. And, oh look, there's Morgan. And some guy. And her bra-- oh, wait, that was Zia's, and the second she realized that she quickly retrieved it, among any other strung out items she remembered belonged to her. She could vaguely, just vaguely, remember a few hazy images from the night before. The guy was from the bar, he'd talked to them. At one point, Zee was dancing, at another she was making some aggressively sexual passes at some redhead-- oh. Morgan.
Instead of lingering much longer she just decided to slink away as quietly as possible. Luckily her phone was right there, so she was able to call a ride... and maybe later, when she was a little more put together, find out whatever became of her daddy's Mercedes...
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